Chapter 8
In less than a minute she’d been demoted from Brittany to Brit. Not surprising. She’d been so excited by her idea that she’d said what was on her mind instead of leading up to it slowly.
By going straight to the point, she’d shocked the hell out of Trent. He was already out of bed and reaching for his pants.
“Wait.”
He paused. “You were just kidding?”
“No, but?—”
“Then I need to go.” He put on his briefs and sat on the edge of the bed to pull on his socks. “This was supposed to be an uncomplicated deal, a one and done as you put it.”
“That’s all I intended, but then as we got to talking, it hit me. We both long to experience having a kid of our own, but neither of us trusts the concept of happily ever after. So why not follow in Desiree’s footsteps?”
Standing, he put on his jeans, buttoning and zipping them with an air of finality. “You can certainly do that if you want. I wish you well. But I’m not your guy.”
“Why not?”
He gazed at her. “You told me earlier I wasn’t ready for a relationship and now you’re suggesting I become a father? That doesn’t compute.”
“Those are entirely different things. In a relationship with another adult, you’re dealing with each other’s history, good and bad. It’s tough to find someone you truly match up with. But with a baby, you start fresh.”
“And right from the get-go, you have a million ways to screw it up.” Propping his hips against the nightstand, he used it as support while he shoved his feet into his boots.
“But unlike most parents, who are trying to navigate their romantic relationship and raise a child, we’d be free to focus on the child. I see it as win-win.”
He straightened. “I see it as a recipe for disaster.”
“It doesn’t have to be. Desiree is living proof that it works.”
“Not exactly. All those dads were from somewhere else and they all moved away once they provided her with a child. Well, Angie’s dad didn’t move. He died. Point is, they didn’t stick around.”
“True.”
“I’m planning to make an offer on the cabin I’m renting from Cheyenne, so if you’re figuring on me leaving town eventually since I’m not from here, that’s?—”
“I’m not! I’d want you to be here, to share in the experience.”
“What about custody? I’m pretty sure Desiree had sole custody of those kids. The guys had no responsibility, or rights, for that matter. That would never work for me.”
“I understand and I agree. We should have joint custody. But we’d maintain separate households.”
“That’s crazy. And confusing for the kid.”
“Is it? I grew up with the McLintock brood. They weren’t confused. Children are more adaptable than we give them credit for.”
He rubbed the back of his neck while he focused on a point just past her left shoulder.
Her pulse quickened. She hadn’t won him over by a long shot, but at least he was thinking about it. She had more arguments, but maybe she’d be better off staying quiet for a while.
He sighed and met her gaze. “I still see land mines. What if you meet Mr. Right?”
“Then I’d marry him. If you meet Ms. Right, you’d marry her.”
“More confusion for the kid.”
“Not as much as you think. Divorced couples handle that contingency all the time. And their kids go through at least some trauma during the divorce. I certainly did when my parents split. Our child wouldn’t have that issue.”
“Our child.” His soft murmur revealed equal measures of awe and disbelief.
“Has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?”
“Gives me the shivers.”
“Shivers aren’t necessarily bad.”
“They’re not necessarily good, either.” He shoved his hands in the pocket of his jeans. “You just threw me a hell of a curve ball, Brittany.”
“I realize that.” She warmed at the sound of Brittany, especially the way he said it. “Please don’t make the decision now. Give yourself time to think it through.”
“I doubt my answer will change. It’s an interesting idea, but I can’t see myself going along with it. The concept’s way outside my comfort zone.”
“Then maybe you’re not as excited about being a parent as I am. I really want this, and suddenly I can see a way that doesn’t involve finding the perfect spouse. Or taking potluck with a sperm bank.”
“At least you have that second option. I only have the first, and evidently I suck at it.”
“See? You’re making my argument for me.”
He shook his head. “I can’t picture myself doing it.”
“Not now. But maybe after the possibility has time to percolate, you’ll see it differently.”
“I don’t think so.”
“When do you work at the Buffalo again?”
“Tuesday night, with Rance.”
“Do you usually close for him like you did tonight?”
“I do. It’s my way of thanking him for getting me the job.”
“Then how about this — I’ll come by at closing time Tuesday night and we’ll talk some more.”
He held her gaze for a moment. Then his chest heaved. “Okay. But don’t get your hopes up.”
“I promise I won’t. But if your answer is yes, we’ll need to get started right away.”
His breath hitched. “Why is that?” His voice sounded a little tight, as if he might be dealing with the mental picture she’d just created.
“It’s my fertile time.”
“You keep track?” The flicker in his brown eyes grew brighter.
“Not consciously, but it’s a frequent topic with Ella and Faye, so now I know how to figure when I’m most likely to get pregnant. It’s this week.”
“I see.” He swallowed, then stood there looking at her. “Good thing we used condoms.”
“Definitely.” Except that wasn’t the message he was sending with his hot stare. She knew that look. Dollars to donuts he was envisioning having sex without those little raincoats.
He cleared his throat. “I’ll be going, then. I just need to get my shirt and jacket.” He stayed rooted to the spot, as if he was hoping she’d change his mind about leaving.
She wasn’t about to seduce him into this decision. It wasn’t a good way to start. She glanced up at the bedpost. “Don’t forget your hat.”
He blinked. “Right.” Snatching it, he crammed it on his head and headed out of the room.